


How Can You Not See Her Brilliance?

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Annoyed Sherlock Holmes, Confessions, Embarrassed Sherlock, Eventual Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluffy Ending, POV Sherlock Holmes, Pre-Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper Fluff, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper Kissing, Sherlock is a good friend, Sherlock's Heart, Sherlock's Mind, Sherlock-centric, surprised Molly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 01:36:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7339270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes is stuck in the path lab with some interns when one of them asks a question that provokes a response from him about the brilliance of Molly Hooper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Can You Not See Her Brilliance?

**Author's Note:**

> So ages ago my dear friend **sherlollyistheunicornshit** had had a bad day and I offered to write cheer-up fic and I had found this quote from Tyler Knott Gregson that I wanted to write something for (“ _Do you think it’s possible that some people are born to give more love than they will ever get back in return?_ ”), but I had my folders arranged weirdly and put it in a strange one and then couldn't find it until I streamlined everything yesterday. So I am so so sorry it's late, hun! But I hope this is an unexpected brightening of your day! ::hugs::

Normally the path lab was dead silent, unless Molly was in there and there was the background noise of whatever random popular music she decided to listen to or, if she was in a nice mood, the classical music he so loved. It depended on how willing she was to be nice to him which, these days, depended on how much those masquerading as Moriarty annoyed Mycroft and that, in turn, decided how suffocatingly tight Molly’s security detail was. If it was relatively loose then there was Beethoven and Mozart and Bach. If it was as tight as a hangman’s noose than it was Taylor Swift and One Direction and God help him any other number of other insipid acts.

Today, though, Molly had endless meetings with Stamford and the hospital board and the lab was overrun with interns who had decided it was better to chat than to work, and the noise level was grating on his very last nerve. He had done his best to tune them out but their increasing volume made it damn near impossible at times. It was days like this he wished he’d invested in an iPod, but normally he enjoyed the ability to have a conversation with Molly, her sometimes questionable taste in music be damned.

“Do you think it’s possible that some people are born to give more love than they will ever get back in return?” 

Sherlock had ignored the conversation going on around him in the path lab up for the last forty-eight minutes until that point and he spoke up before he even knew what he was doing. “Molly,” he said without looking up from his microscope. 

It seemed as though the noise level came to a screeching halt and there was dead silence in the room. He was sure he could hear a pin drop now. “You mean Dr. Hooper?” the woman who had asked the question asked him.

“Do you know any other Mollys?” he asked, pulling out the slide and putting another one in, not removing his eyes.

“How well do you know Dr. Hooper?” another woman asked.

“Fairly well,” he said. “I consider her one of my close friends, most days. I do not know if the feeling is entirely mutual all of the time.”

“Why not?” one of the male interns asked.

“Because it is currently my fault she has the social life equivalent to that of a nun,” he replied. He adjusted the microscope to study the slide, hoping they would let to topic drop.”

“Why’s that?” the first woman asked.

He sighed, and pulled his gaze away from what he was doing. The three interns were all young, mid-twenties. One woman was a blonde who took too much care with her looks and appeared to be hiding a nasty amphetamine habit. That did not bode well. The ginger woman looked pleasant enough, though she was on a yo-yo dieting regimen and if she didn’t get it under control it could spiral into an eating disorder. The young man was showing signs of sleep deprivation and Sherlock could see his hands were shaking as though he was hungover. Hopefully, they would all straighten themselves out before they became fully fledged doctors or woe become the NHS. “Because I am entangled with a great threat to Queen and country, and as she is someone who is deeply entangled in my life and has been for some time, she is also entangled in said threat. There is a target on her back.”

He watched them perk up at that. Typical. Anything that made their superior seem more interesting because she was _bad arse_ was interesting. Couldn’t they appreciate her because she was kind and caring and loving? Because she was a good person and warm and damn near perfect? No, of course not. There had to be an element of _danger_ to her to make her interesting. “Is she a spy?” the blonde asked.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and shook his head. “No, that’s absurd. She _may_ have helped me perpetuate the faking of my death but no, she’s not on the payroll of MI-6 or anything like that. She is merely an associate of mine whose expertise I use and she occasionally assists me on cases and she is a good friend and therefore her life is sometimes in danger. As such, she has her own security detail, and occasionally it is very...tight. And when it’s tight she blames me because I haven’t taken care of the threat fast enough, and on those days I don’t think she considers me a friend. More of a nuisance those days.”

“She has her own security detail?” the man said, his eyes wide and a smile crossing his face. “That’s wicked!”

Sherlock sighed. “You don’t know her at all, do you? She is the kindest, most decent human being I know. This whole affair is an inconvenience to her. She is not allowed to live the life she would choose to live, a life which would make her happy. She has so much love to give, and yet because of my folly in getting involved in a game of one-upmanship with James Moriarty she’s cloistered like a nun. And that is something I deeply regret. She has more love to give than I think she will ever get back because the world is an unfair place, and I think that is a travesty. And if all you can think is that her life is _cool_ and _exciting_ because she has a security detail and a target on her back then you are a bunch of blathering idiots. She deserves better than to be tethered to an arse like me for the foreseeable future.” The three of them stared at him with wide eyes, or at least he _thought_ they were staring at him until he realized they were staring at the door behind him. He turned and saw Molly standing there, wide-eyed and slightly slack-jawed. “Bloody hell,” he muttered.

“Kate, Jason, Marilyn...out. Now,” Molly said quietly. The three interns nodded and quickly filed out of the path lab, leaving Molly and Sherlock alone. “Sherlock...”

“How much of that did you hear?” he asked quietly, shutting his eyes.

“From Jason saying my security detail was wicked,” she said, moving closer to Sherlock.

“Oh Lord,” he said. “Can we pretend I didn’t say any of that?”

“No, Sherlock, I don’t think I can,” she said gently. “Mostly because that’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me. Well, not _to_ me, but _about_ me.” He felt her hand on his face and he opened his eyes to see her standing there, smiling down at him. “It may very well be the nicest thing anyone has said about me in a long time, actually, and is just what I needed to hear today.” After a moment, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek, just barely hitting the corner of his mouth. “Thank you.”

“Molly?” he asked when she straightened up.

“Yes?” she asked.

“Would you...like to get coffee?” he asked quietly. “I know it’s not a proper date and all, and I am not the best person to ask you _on_ a proper date, but...”

She leaned in again, and this time pressed her lips against his softly. After a moment’s hesitation, he kissed her back. He didn’t care if the idiotic interns were hanging about the door gawking, or if the security guards were watching on the CCTV or if his brother was tapping into the feed as well, he was enjoying the moment and admitting to himself he should have done this _long_ ago. When she pulled away she gave him a dazzling smile. “Coffee would be lovely, Sherlock.”

“Good,” he said, giving her a grin as well. And indeed, it was very good. Very good indeed...


End file.
